


Queens and Merlyns: A Long Time Ago, We Used to Be Friends

by fiacresgirl



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4099975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiacresgirl/pseuds/fiacresgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moira Queen and Malcolm Merlyn deal with their personal problems and changing relationships. (Flashback 1992) Begins in Moira's POV, will incorporate Malcolm's in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moira Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of short conversations from 1992. I'm interested in exploring the dynamic between Robert and Moira Queen and their friends, Malcolm and Rebecca Merlyn, and how these relationships set up the events that happened later on Arrow.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira Queen has a conversation with her husband Robert about the girl he got pregnant.

“Birdie,” he said. “I…”

“Don’t you Birdie me, Robert.”

“Moira,” he said, sighing. “I wouldn’t have even told you about this. I wouldn’t. I try to keep these things separate and discreet, like you wanted. But this girl, she won’t cooperate. She won’t be sensible. She wants the baby, and she wants money. A lot of money. She’s threatening to go to the media and a lawyer if I don’t give her what she wants, and I’ve just...lost control of the situation.”

He smiled at her then, crookedly, and tilted his handsome face to her. As if this were their first meeting back in the living room of her sorority house at USC. As if she were nineteen and wearing a cotton sundress, her sun-bleached hair loose down her back, touching her waist. Fresh off a summer filing patient records for her father’s dermatology practice and contemplating a degree in accounting. Like he was everything she’d never thought about trying and wouldn’t she like to? Just this once?

Moira closed her eyes and counted back from ten. This wasn’t her first Robert rodeo. It was her nine-hundred-forty-fifth, and this time he wasn’t asking her to dance, he was asking her to hide his illegitimate child from public view and to do it as cheaply and as quietly as possible. 

When she opened her eyes, he’d straightened and was serious again. “If you want Oliver to have Queen Consolidated some day, I’m gonna need your help with this one,” he said. 

Moira stared at him. He was utterly unbelievable. Expecting her to mop up after him, after his stupid wandering penis again, and bringing Oliver into it when she balked. No shame. This was just an inconvenience to him. Something to assign to the right person. What had she ever seen in him? She had a flash of that handsome boy at the dance, the one with the too long blond hair and the popped collar, the boy who’d been nervous but insistent on introducing her to his stern father a month later, and she squelched it.

“Please, Moira,” he said and he leaned over, brushing her elbow gently with his fingers, right where he knew...he knew she didn’t want him to touch her there anymore. That’s how he’d led her out on the dance floor a decade ago, smoothly with no hesitation. She swallowed.

“Fine,” she said bitterly. “Just...fine. Give me her name and her address, and I’ll go talk to her. I’ll tell her what’s what. I’ll explain to her what kind of man you are and what she can expect from the Queens if she wants to do this.” 

Robert stepped back, letting his hand fall and his breath out. He smiled again, this time in relief. Moira narrowed her eyes. This wasn’t going to be another one of those Bobby-gets-what-Bobby-wants times. No, it was not.

“But if this ever happens again,” she said, “I’ll cut your dick off. Understand? I’ll no doubt go to prison for it, but you won’t have your dick, and we both know who will suffer more.”


	2. Conversation with an Impressionable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira has a chat with Robert's pregnant girlfriend.

The girl’s name was Amy Graham, and she lived near Starling City College - just far enough away for affordable rent, Moira thought - in a four-story brick Victorian that had been converted into three apartments. The mailboxes outside hung crookedly beside the front door, and there were newspapers in plastic bags in a pile below them. They were soaked from this morning’s rain. Or maybe last week’s rain. It was hard to tell; there were a lot of them.

Moira sat in her silver Mercedes outside the house, watching it for at least an hour before she went up to ring the bell to apartment #2. The intercom squeaked, and a voice said, “Yes?” 

“This is Moira Queen,” she said firmly. “Is this Amy Graham? May I speak with you?” 

“Um...uh,” the voice said, “Yeah, uh huh...I guess. Here, let me come down.” A few minutes passed, and then steps sounded on the staircase behind the warped wooden door. It opened, and Amy stared out at her, eyes wide.

If anyone were to order a plaything for Robert from a catalog for Christmas, like an American Girl but for very different purposes, she would have looked just like Amy Graham. Small and thin, but curvy in the right places, she had long, wavy, butter blonde hair caught back in two combs on either side of a middle part. Her eyes were blue-green with dark lashes that matched her slash straight eyebrows, and her lips were soft and full around the two teeth that were biting down on them. And she was pregnant. Obviously pregnant. At least five months pregnant. Moira mentally took a couple of her options off the table. 

“Hello, Amy,” she said. “I’m Moira Queen.” Moira put out her hand.

“Um,” Amy said again, “hi.” She shook Moira’s hand rather limply, but then she straightened and smiled.

“Could I talk to you for a moment?” Moira asked. “Privately?”

“Oh, sorry,” Amy said, “Yeah. Come in. Come upstairs. It’s a mess, really, but my roommate’s not home right now.” She turned around and began climbing the worn stairs, holding carefully to the bannister. Her feet were in knock off birkenstocks, and she pulled her long jean skirt up as she ascended. Moira climbed after her. The stairway turned at a landing and then opened onto a hall with another open door. Amy went through it, walked over to a couch, and pulled a few textbooks and a sweater off a ratty old couch, gesturing in an embarrassed way. “Please sit down.” She cleared some space on a nearby table and dropped them there.

Moira surveyed the room. It was a classic college rental, furnished with items from at least three decades of clashing styles. A bead curtain hung between the main room and what looked to be the kitchen. Next to a hot water register were some brick and plank bookcases overwhelmed by thick textbooks, and a couple of art prints hung on the wall next to a key rack. The one nearest to her was a Monet. Water Lilies. Moira mentally rolled her eyes. She didn’t care for Monet. There was at least one in the Queen gallery, although she’d never bothered to learn which one it was. She didn’t like the Impressionists. If you couldn’t even view life for what it was, how could you hope to deal with what it threw at you?

Moira crossed over to the couch and sat. A spring beneath her shifted into her hip, but she ignored it and concentrated on Amy who was hovering near the table. It was shoved into the room’s large bay window with a couple of chairs. She waved her hand and Amy pulled out one of them and sat too. 

“Miss Graham,” Moira said. 

“Amy,” the girl said. “It’s Amy. I don’t know how meetings like these should go, but you can call me by my name.” 

Moira raised an eyebrow. “Amy,” she said, and she forced herself to relax and smile. It wasn’t as hard as she’d thought it might be. Amy’s hands were shaking in her lap. “I don’t know how these meetings are supposed to go either. This is my first one.” Amy nodded a little solemnly and then clasped her hands together. 

“So,” Moira asked, “this is Robert’s baby?”

Amy nodded again. “Yes.” 

“And you’re due in…”

“September. I’m 23 weeks pregnant.” 

Moira did some quick calculations in her head. A September birth meant a December conception. Robert had been distracted during the holidays, but he was often distracted. Come to think of it, this girl may have been at their Christmas party. Robert was always so social at Christmas and there were always plenty of beautiful young people invited. He hadn’t been there on Christmas Eve, though. Moira had had to assemble Oliver’s bike at the last minute because he hadn’t been there, and the staff had all gone home to their families. To their families. Where they were supposed to be. On Christmas Eve. 

She shook her head. This was a train of thought that would lead her nowhere right now. She had a problem to solve, so she pulled herself together.

“I have to tell you, Amy,” she said, “Robert told me that you were being difficult and not listening to reason or cooperating. He wants me to do what I have to do to make this go away…”

“Mrs. Queen,” Amy said. 

“I know,” Moira interrupted her. She let the title stand. She was Mrs. Queen, and the whole point of her being here was so Amy would know it too. “Situations like these are complicated. This one is 23 weeks complicated. I came here to let you know what you can reasonably expect from Robert. He’s told you that he loves you?”

“Yes,” Amy said, fisting her hands in her skirt. “He has. He does. He wants the baby too. He told me so.”

Moira sighed. Robert was such a sorry piece of work. “The thing is,” she said, “You should know that Robert doesn’t want any more children. We’ve had this argument since Oliver was born. He doesn’t enjoy kids very much. The energy, the chaos. And while he may care for you…”

“Robert doesn’t just care for me, he loves me, and he loves Oliver. He said Oliver is the most important thing in his life!” Amy’s eyes filled with tears. 

“Robert loves Oliver, yes,” Moira said carefully. “And he spends time with him. When he wants to. When it’s enjoyable for him. When he can do it entirely on his own terms. But babies - Robert doesn’t find much about babies enjoyable, and he doesn’t care for how they monopolize time and energy. Or how they make their mothers tired, fat, and leaky.” 

Amy’s eyes widened. 

“The thing is, and I’m going to be blunt, but you don’t have to believe me - just listen to what I’ve got to say and take some time to think it over. You probably think I’m here to confront you or to accuse you or to protect my man and his money, but I’ve been married to Robert for almost a decade, and this is not his first affair. It’s not his tenth affair. It’s not even his first pregnancy scare; it’s just the first one that’s made it to the second trimester.” 

Amy shifted in her chair and reflexively moved her hands to her belly. 

“Robert said you wanted the baby, and I can’t stop you from having this baby. I don’t even want to. I don’t need that on my conscience. I am a mother, and I have a child, and he actually is the most important thing in my life. Oliver’s the reason why I’m here right now, in fact. Someday you may understand.

“What you can expect, realistically, from Robert is financial support. He’ll give you that. He might make the lawyers prolong things if he gets annoyed enough at you, but he’ll pay out. He has the money. But he won’t be there for your - I’m sorry, do you know what you’re having?” 

Amy pressed her lips together and shifted again. Moira scanned the room again. Tacked to a corkboard near the kitchen was a sonogram picture of a baby that looked pretty baby-like. It was too far away, though, and too dark to make out parts.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “He won’t there when your daughter - ”

“Son,” Amy said. “It’s a boy. He’s a boy.” 

“Your son. Robert won’t be there to change his diapers or watch his first steps. He won’t teach him his alphabet, and he won’t teach him discipline because, God knows, he doesn’t have any of that himself.” She crossed her legs at her ankles and rested her elbow on the armrest. The list of things Robert wouldn’t do was long.

“He won’t be there on his first day of school or his last, and he won’t introduce him to the people in his life as anything because that’s the way he is. Robert has a son, Oliver, and he thinks he’s fulfilled his dad quota, so that’s that. He won’t be cruel, he won’t go out of his way to hurt you, he just won’t have anything to do with either you, if you have this baby, or your son.

“I’m not saying this to be manipulative, or at least to unfairly manipulate you. But you should know what you’re facing. Someone should know what they’re facing with this family. I wish I’d have known what was what a decade ago.” 

Amy apparently had had enough. She stood up. “Just don’t,” she said. “Don’t say any more. I know this must be hard for you, and I really do feel bad about the whole thing. And you...I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way.” She looked at Moira pityingly. “Robert is so good looking, so charming and driven - I can’t imagine how I would feel if I lost the love of a man like that. Devastated, I suppose, and I am sorry you’re hurting. It’s just...he loves me now.” She lifted her chin. “We’re in love.” 

Moira closed her eyes and counted slowly backwards from five. Then she opened them, and the first thing she saw was that damned Monet print and those goddamned blurry flowers. There was a reason why the man had lived most of his life in poverty and pawned off his toddler sons on a friend’s wife while he’d sat and painted ponds. Artists and romantics. 

“Amy,” she said, “I’m not sad, and I’m not devastated. I’m just tired. Someday, you’ll understand how it feels to put up with ridiculous amounts of...garbage you never, ever thought you’d put up with before you had children. How it feels to put their well being before your own happiness. Well before. But what you need to understand now is that Robert isn’t going to divorce me. He even loves me in his own way. Certainly this arrangement we have going suits his purposes. I’m not going to divorce him either, so the real question is, do you want to have this baby and raise him on your own? Because that’s what you’re looking at.”

Amy frowned and sat down again. 

“It’s a lot of work, even with enough money and a husband. Oliver cried for the first three months straight. Colic. And then he was fussy all of the time until he started to crawl and could move around on his own. From then on he bounced off the walls and never walked anywhere he could run. He’s smart, but he hates to sit still in school. He hates to sit still period. He’s a lot of work.

“Don’t get me wrong. I love him, and I’ve never regretted having him. But you need to think about what becoming a mother will do to your opportunities. Robert isn’t going to marry you. I’m guessing that something inside you already suspects this. You’re five months along. Has he come with you to any of your prenatal appointments? Has he mentioned any baby names he likes to you? How much pressure has he put on you to terminate this pregnancy?”

Amy’s mouth had become a flat line, and Moira knew she’d struck a chord. She uncrossed her legs, pulled herself out of the couch, and stood up. It would be better to leave her thinking than to push her too hard and activate her obstinacy and misplaced loyalty. 

“Ask him. Ask Robert what his specific plans are for you and for this baby and what the timeline is. Ask him to come to your next prenatal appointment. Show up at his office at Queen Consolidated for lunch and see what happens.” Moira pulled out a card from the side panel of her purse. She found a pen in another pocket, flipped the card, and wrote some numbers on the back.

“Here’s my card with my private number. When you’ve had time to think, call me, and we can go over your options.” She pressed the card in Amy’s hand. “You’re a pretty girl, Amy, and you seem smart. You could have a good life as a…” she squinted a bit at the bookshelf, “dental hygienist? Don’t let this derail it all for you.” 

Moira walked to the open doorway, and then turned around. “One more thing. This is important. You should have them run an STD panel on you with your monthly checkups. I haven’t slept with Robert since he gave me gonorrhea and chlamydia, and you don’t want your son exposed to that, either in utero or during birth.” She smiled once more, turned and walked into the hallway, and then made her way carefully down the stairs and out to the Mercedes.


End file.
